


Senz'anima

by twyly56



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adult Dean Winchester, Adult Sam Winchester, Azazel (Supernatural)'s Special Children, Background Relationships, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Cold Sam Winchester, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, In a Strictly Platonic Way, Knifeplay, Nerd Barry, Possessive Sam Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Sam Hates Bullies, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Soul Stealing, Soulless Sam Winchester, Stabbing, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, Time Skips, Violent Sam Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 11:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twyly56/pseuds/twyly56
Summary: Azazel removed baby Sam's soul on the night he killed Mary and dripped his blood into the infant's mouth. All in an effort to make Sam more accepting of his powers. Unfortunately, or not depending on who you ask, this makes Sam ridiculously possessive over his older brother and whoever else he deems as his. But mostly Dean. Always Dean.





	Senz'anima

OCTOBER 2, 1983

A young blonde woman set her four year old son down as she stepped into her youngest's room. She flicked on the light switch, and the crib by the window was illuminated. 

"Come on, Dean. Let's say goodnight to your brother," she said. The small boy bounded over to his brother's crib and lifted onto the tips of his toes. He leaned his body over to kiss the baby's forehead. 

"Goodnight, Sam," Dean whispered. The baby blinked up at him, hazel eyes sparking with recognition. A pudgy hand reached up for him but went back down when the mother leaned down to press her lips to his temple. Sam patted her face with his other hand. 

"Goodnight," Mary murmured. 

"Hey, Dean," a new voice said. The boy's head turned, blonde hair flopping over his forehead. His face lit up in a smile. He ran to the man standing in the doorway. 

"Daddy!" Dean cried, holding his arms up to him. The man reached down and lifted him up, holding him on his hip. 

"Hey, buddy. What do you think? You think Sammy's ready to go and toss around a football yet?" John asked. Dean giggled and shook his head. 

"No, Daddy," he said. 

"No," John agreed. Mary walked up to them. He smiled at his wife. 

"You got him?" she asked. He nodded. 

"I got him," John replied, stroking the back of Dean's head. The boy snuggled his head in the crook of his dad's neck. His little arms wrapped around John's neck. John patted his back gently. He glanced over at his youngest son. He smiled. "Sweet dreams, Sam." 

The man flicked the light switch off, and he carried Dean down the hall to his room. 

The baby looked up at the carousel, cooing as it moved in the cool wind that blew in from the open window. He gripped his little foot with his hand, babbling. 

The nightlight on the wall flickered. The clock stopped ticking. 

Sam turned his head, blinking, silent at the sight of the strange man by the window. The curtains flapped loosely in the breeze behind him. The man smiled a smile with too much teeth, and his eyes glowed yellow in the darkness. The baby watched him as he walked leisurely to the crib and stuck his hand down. The warm hand caressed his soft belly for a moment before it pressed through his skin. Sam let out a high pitched whine of discomfort, squirming, but unable to move away from the offending appendage. 

"There, there, little prince. Just a bit longer, yeah?" the stranger crooned. 

The baby's shriek was muffled by a calloused hand. A bright light came with the man's fist, following it out of Sam's chest. The man shoved the light, ignoring the way it strained in his grip, into the case beside his feet. He clicked the locks shut. Sam stared at him, hazel eyes blank and emotionless. The glassy look in them would better suit a dead body than a six month old. The man grinned. 

"One last thing, Sam," he said. 

He broke the skin of his wrist open with the nail of his thumb, and a dark bead of blood welled up. The man held it over the baby's mouth and let it fall. The droplet of blood splatted on Sam's pink lips, and he licked it off with his tongue mechanically. His face scrunched up at the funny taste. A few more drops fell into the baby's open mouth, and the man smirked. The yellow of his eyes faded. 

"Good boy," the man cooed, patting Sam's little head. The baby just stared up at him with dull eyes. 

 

Mary was woken up by the sound of soft noises coming from the baby monitor. She turned her head to look at the plastic device and moaned quietly, still exhausted. She switched on the lamp.

"John?" she called. The woman rolled over to see the other side of the bed empty. She let out a soft sigh and climbed out of the bed. 

Mary padded down the hall on bare feet, and she stopped in the doorway of her baby's room. A male figure was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the fluttering curtains, standing over Sam's crib. She squinted in the dim light. 

"John? What is it? Is he hungry?" Mary asked. 

The figure shushed her softly, jerking his head slightly to the baby lying in the crib. 

"Okay," she said. The woman sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly, walking back down the hall to her bedroom. 

Mary frowned at the light at the end of the hall. It flickered on and off, on and off. She walked over to it and tapped it with her finger. The light remained on after she tapped it a few times. She would have to look at it tomorrow or ask John to change it. Mary frowned again when she heard noises coming from down the stairs. She made her way down the steps, and she saw a soldier movie playing on the television. 

That wasn't the thing that bothered her, though. 

John was laying on the couch, snoring softly against the armrest. Her eyes widened. 

Mary darted back up the stairs, her heart beating frantic in her chest. 

"Sammy! Sammy!" she cried out. 

The man turned from the crib and held out his hand to her, twitching his wrist. She flew against the wall. 

 

A loud scream made John jolt in his seat, abruptly awake. It had sounded like his wife. He ran up the stairs, calling out her name. 

"Mary, Mary!" he yelled. "Mary!"

John flung open the door to Sam's nursery, and he paused. The room was empty, save for the tiny baby in his crib. Still confused but relaxing just a bit, he walked to Sam's crib and slid down the bars. He patted his son's belly, and the baby glanced at him, babbling baby talk. 

"Hey, Sammy. It's okay," John murmured. Sam looked up at the ceiling past him and went silent. 

John frowned at the small red spot on the blanket by Sam's head. He touched it and found it was wet. A red drop splatted on the back of his hand, once, twice. He lifted his hand and frowned at it. John flicked his eyes to the ceiling. Mary's terrified eyes stared back at him, her body suspended and pinned to the ceiling by nothing at all. A large gash was spread across the width of her stomach, bleeding heavily, the crimson saturating her white nightgown. John stumbled and fell to the floor, catching himself on his hands. 

" _No!_ " he cried. "Mary!" 

Mary was suddenly engulfed in flames with her mouth open in a silent scream. The acrid scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils. He could only watch on in horror, absolutely helpless. His son scrunched up his eyes at the bright light, squealing. That jerked him out of his shock, and he quickly scooped up Sam, running from the nursery. 

Little Dean had wandered out into the hall, woken up by the loud noises. 

"Daddy?" Dean asked. John pushed Sam into the boy's arms. 

"Take your brother outside, and don't look back. Now, Dean, now!" he urged. 

Dean held his baby brother to his chest, and he turned away, little legs pumping as he darted down the steps. The boy didn't stop running until he finally reached outside. Sam blinked up at him, tiny hands grabbing at Dean's shirt. 

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said. 

John ran out a moment later and lifted both boys into his arms, carrying them across the street. 


End file.
